


Feeling Nothing Is Complicated

by sirnando



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 19:38:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4361669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirnando/pseuds/sirnando
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's nothing, yet there might be something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feeling Nothing Is Complicated

**Author's Note:**

> let's pretend cris drinks one time

The first time Cristiano felt his stomach contract was when James hugged him for the first time. But he brushed it off because James was just another kid footballer “striving to be as great as you Mr. Ronaldo”. So he smiled and thanked him, patted his head on the way out.

It was a small squeeze, he’d barely noticed it there. But then again he’d never expected James to end up wearing white.

~  
He didn’t attend the presentation, not because he was arrogant or rude, but because he wasn’t interested. Iker urged him to go “because James is a fan” but Gareth was a fan too and that didn’t encourage him much. So he watched from computer (turned it off halfway) and James was left disappointed, as reported by Iker.

“Near tears.”

“Fuck off.”

“He loves you Cristiano, respect that.”

“Loves me? He doesn’t love me. He’s just another fan, one of the crowd. Dont’ give me that bullshit.”

But Iker was leaving.

~

He wasn’t a tail like Gareth had been which was a pleasant surprise. James just smiled and waved, arm glued to his side. He’d leaned in for a hug a few times but stopped when Cristiano recoiled each time.

Obedient and smart. And his opinion of him swelled a little. James swelled enormously when his waves started getting returned.

~

The one thing that sometimes got uncomfortable were James’ looks. Across the field, on the other side of the bus, in the dressing room. 

They were always quick glances and Cristiano always caught him doing it. And every time James would smile sheepishly and turn his head back to Marcelo or Isco.

The weird thing was that he never gave up. A normal person who was caught in the act would stop or at least attempt to be more discreet. But James? Never. He’d do it each time. 

Cristiano wondered why but he never asked.

~

There was no room on the bus once. Cristiano had hopped on first, James was last. Therefore he sat next to Cristiano.

He contemplated asking if he could, but then again he wasn’t going to stand if the answer was no.

Cristiano didn’t say anything, didn’t look up from his screen. James slumped in his seat at the reaction, but he didn’t notice the stiffness in the other’s back.

It was an awkward ride, James regretted he didn’t sit on someone’s lap. Or even stand because it would be better than this. Until Cristiano finally looked up (his eyes started hurting from pretending). “You’re doing well.” he mumbled and James barely caught it but his cheeks burned up.

“They didn’t buy me for nothing.”

And when Cristiano laughed he knew he was doing better than he’d expected.

~

They didn’t start a friendship, they just talked sometimes. Little things about the weather or upcoming matches, vacation and family. It was good enough for James and Cristiano didn’t see it as something impotrant.

The stares: never ended. Even after Cristiano prayed that they would because it made him feel off. But they didn’t.

He still smiled and waved and stared and laughed, the only thing different this time was the few words exchanged between them.

~

They grew more comfortable around one another. To the point where they’d pair up during training together. And Iker had once whispered into James’ ear that, that? That was a miracle because rarely did Cristiano change his routines. James smiled and thanked him, Iker didn’t know what for.

Sometimes there were bus rides together and sometimes they bumped elbows at the dinner table, so it blossomed into an acquaintance. The “we are teammates so we might as well talk some” acquaintance. 

~

It was halfway into the season when Cristiano finally decided that their acquaintance had turned into a very small sprout of a friendship. They talked more, sat together on the bus permanently and James made it a custom to assist Cristiano. Neither one of them was dedicated (not really anyways), but neither of them minded what whatever they had had become.

Each one of them was still preoccupied with their own lives after the whistle blew and the first one was out the door. Cristiano grew used to the stares because they never subsided, they had just moved closer to him. He hugged James twice and decided it wasn’t that bad.

~

It was Ramos’ party. They were never calm in the first place but when he hosted them at his place they crossed all moral restrictions. 

Everyone was tipsy. Sergio wasn’t sure where he was. James was at his usual spot: glued to Cristiano’s side. One hand on his hip the other clutching his drink. 

Cristiano was naming off all the places he’d traveled to: which ones he liked. Which ones he left happily (James had asked about the vacation locations but he wasn’t listening anymore). James’ eyes were glassy, his shirt was too tight, So were his pants. Everything felt uncomfortable which was weird because he felt fine before.

When Cris began telling about his adventures in Barcelona did James cut in.

“Damn it it’s so hot in here. You know sometimes I have the urge to kiss you.” His mouth slammed shut, free hand slid into his pocket and the vodka he’d been choking down was at the back of his throat. Cristiano was staring at him. What the hell did h-

“Then why don’t you?”

James blinked furiously. His lips were chapped. His hands were drowning in sweat. Now?

“Here?”

“Obviously not.”

Cristiano scratched his nose and walked into Sergio’s bedroom. That’s the first time they slept together

~

James woke up, unsure of where he was because his head was pounding too hard to recall.

It smelled like alcohol, sweat and something. And then he noticed Cristiano, sitting, on the edge of the bed shirtless, head propped up on his hands.

James rubbed his eyes, ran his palm down his face. And the headache magically subsided, or at least the fog left him because he remembered how the skin on Cristiano’s chest felt.

He sat as still as possible so Cristiano didn’t look his way. Needed time to think of what to say to him. (Which was harder than he wanted). Thank you? You’re welcome?

“Hi?”

Cris turned back, startled. He scratched his chin and muttered “I was drunk.”

“What?”

“I was drunk and so were you and we didn’t decide on anything. The end. I’m Cristiano Ronaldo and I’m for the women. I want women.”

It seemed as if he was trying to convince himself rather than declare something.

“But-”

“That-” he waved his hands furiously at the bed, “this. La- last night whatever you want to call it- it was nothing. Don’t get any ideas.” And he left whilst pulling his clothes on.

It was nothing, James thought. Nothing. That was fine.

“But,” he said to himself, “you don’t drink.”

~

They didn’t talk the rest of the week. It was more of an unconcious decision on Cristiano’s part. James on the other hand wasn’t sure what he’d say anyways. He’d gotten the message, wasn’t stupid. Nothing meant nothing and he’d get over it. 

That he desired Cristiano’s touch again and the fact that he slowly reminded himself of every detail that night didn’t mean anything. He was fine. It was fine. They would be fine.

~

Cristiano wasn’t embarrassed. (He was but even that he wouldn’t dare admit). He didn’t know what had swayed him to go into that room, it just happened.

The atmosphere. It didn’t mean anything. He wasn’t gay. One time thing. And James would have to understand that. Not that he’d apologize or explain himself.

He never did anything, James could’ve refused.

~

They didn’t speak for two weeks until James decided that this was so pathetic. If it was nothing then that meant they could pretend that nothing happened and go back to normal. Yet somehow Cristiano wasn’t on the same frequency as he was. So he decided to handle it himself.

Cristiano didn’t object when James sat next to him on the bus. Reluctantly agreed to be his partner. And James proceeded to fill the hole they’d opened up that night. And it worked, in a way because Cristiano finally returned to normal (somewhat) after a week and a half of James’ work.

It was better than noth- it was good. All James wanted for him to be able to grow the friendship, he could leave all the other feelings on the side.

~

Cristiano got his hat trick soon after. Another. They only reason this one was extremely noteworthy was because James assisted each goal.

He thanked the other meekly, in his own way. “They were nice passes.” James smiled and shook his head in appreciation, moved back to his locker.

~

James wasn’t doing anything special. Just standing there, shirt slight unbuttoned, cheeks peach pink. He was doing nothing. Absolutely nothing. Yet this nothing was eliciting something from Cristiano. 

His head hurt, his fingers were shaking. He felt like throwing up and James standing there with his aura of nothing enveloping him made him snap.

Iker got shoved into a cabinet when they rushed by.

~

The second time marked the beginning of the cycle. The cycle where Cristiano wasn’t embarrassed about what he wanted, he just got it. 

The cycle of cold fingers and hot breath and flushed faces. The parade of “be quiet”’s and “not now”’s. When Cristiano wanted, James was glad to give. But that’s all it was for Cris (or so he claimed): give and take.

And every night, sometimes every other or after three days, Cristiano would end up in James’ room, get everything he needed out of his system. 

Every night he’d leave assuring that this? “This is nothing,” And every night he left James feeling something.

~

It was always James’ house, never Cristiano’s or some other place for fear that some camera, a hidden pair of eyes would catch them.

He didn’t need people thinking he actually enjoyed this, that he was - no, because this was temporary and it would stay that way. Relieve himself and leave. Relieve himself and leave. He always let himself out, didn’t wait for James since he was still lost in the sheets.

Sometimes he found his fingers itching to graze over James’ tiny body, splay his arm over his torso. His eyelids grew heavier, threatened to close and tie him to the bed. It was warm and he was tired and James’ skin was extremely soft - but no. He dragged his ass up, his clothes on and ran off every single time. James always managed to mumble bye after he was gone.

~

He wouldn’t label it as disappointment because Cristiano did always make sure to tell him that all of their bedroom adventures were pointless and meaningless. 

He liked what Cristiano did with him, he wasn’t going to lie to himself. Was surprised it was actually happening. The problem was that he liked the precise moment when they were together, not what happened before or after.

You’d think Cristiano acknowledged the state they were in. Squeeze tighter during training. Room with him at away games. Hug him when goals were scored. James wasn’t asking for cramped makeout sessions or love proclamations. A tap on his ass would be enough for God’s sake. Anything from Cris that would let James know that he acknowledged the fact that “Yes, we’re fucking but you’re not just a toy.

James refused to be a toy. Maybe this whole thing was nothing but it was made up of a shitload of somethings and James knew Cristiano wasn’t blind to that.

Not that he’d say anything since it all meant nothing.

~

After a while of all of this, things changed somewhat. 

Cristiano’s eyes were bloodshot sometimes because he’d leave James’ and not sleep the rest of the night. He got images in his head he didn’t need (but in a way he wanted). 

If people asked him, he’d blame it on stress. That was the easiest excuse. Everyone ate it up. Except Iker. He’d stand on the side, receive the excuse and swallow it. Regurgitate it back up when Cris was gone. He wasn’t stupid. Stress didn’t make a man lose sleep. Didn’t make his muscles weak. Sure as hell didn’t cause him to start walking funny everyday, or every other day or sometimes after three. Guilt did.

~

He confront Cristiano about it once. Asked him to spit out the real reason his eyes were red “because I know stress never gets to you like this”. 

Cris glared at him. “I can handle my own problems. Not that I have any.”

Iker tried hiding his smile, Cris grew frustrated and bit his lip. “Why do you assume I hav-”

“Who is it?” But all Iker got was his back.

~

The guilt never reached Cristiano’s concious mind. Once in a while he would feel something prick his stomach or his chest when he was with James but nothing strong enough to make him realize.

James realized. Different things, but nevertheless. This really was nothing. Yes of course he knew it was supposed to be like this, but into the sixth month he started thirsting for something. Anything. He was just afraid to tell Cristiano for fear that he’d spit more nothing into his face.

~

James never really got what he’d wanted that first night. They’d never actually kissed.

Cris had pecked his neck once and James had kissed his back twice, once on the hip; but there was no real lip on lip action. So they were still stuck at square one.

~

Since he was too afraid to admit things straight forward, James tried showing it at the height of his desperation.

He’d ring their fingers together, wrap his legs around Cristiano’s waist, pull him down into bed when the other sprang up to go thirty seconds after they had finished. But he was almost always met with negative results. 

No I can’t, no I won’t, let me go.

So James bit his lip as hard as he could and turned away whenever Cristiano got up to leave. Allowed the nothing to echo off his back.

~

At one point Cristiano asked if he could have a key to James’ house. They did the same thing in the same place every time so what was the point of James running to the door to open it? Might as well be waiting and make the process quicker.

James refused. Said he didn’t think it was a good idea and if Cristiano wanted all of this then he could be patient and wait five fucking seconds for him to run downstairs. 

Cristiano recoiled that time, the first actual sign of submissiveness and feeling from him, so he didn’t ask again. James was satisfied he at least got that.

~

Cristiano was stunned by James for the first time. Mostly because the other had refused something he requested. He had never refused, hoped it wouldn’t become a usual thing because Cristiano, Cristiano was not the type to gladly accustom himself to someone else’s boundaries. He never had to before, he didn’t plan on doing it now. No matter what James made him feel. Which was nothing.

~

James took a long time opening the door the next time. Cris assumed he was just holding a grudge over his question from last time. So he waited. Tapped his foot but waited.

Finally James’ head popped through the door. “What do you want?” He stuck his hand up to block Cris’ torso from entering. Cristiano pulled his pants back up, confused. His feet shifted. Couldn’t they do this inside? Someone could be watching.

“What do you mean?” He asked between his teeth. James looked at him unamused. “I mean it’s 2 in the morning and you’re barging in here. I have training in the morning, I need sleep.”

Cristiano’s eyebrows furrowed. “We do this all the time.”

“No, we did. We used to. Not anymore.” And he shut the door in Cristiano’s face.

It took Cris ten minutes to gather himself and leave.

~ 

After that it was James who gave Cristiano the silent treatment. Didn’t speak to him, didn’t sit by him, didn’t so much as look at him.

Cristiano drilled into his head that this was all fine, he didn’t need James anyways. Didn’t need his half ass performances. He kept lying to himself, but it made him feel better. Stronger. Dominant. For a while at least.

The only time he cracked was when James laughed. Not with Cristiano of course. But the whole process of his laugh and the way he looked when he laughed made him squeeze his knuckles till they turned white. 

He didn’t know why it even mattered, this laughing. Why he was affected. Until he realized that he’d never had the effect on James.

~

James squeezed his knuckles too. For a different reason though. It made him forget the fact that Cristiano wasn’t going to be joining him this night, and that it was ok that he wasn’t. All for the best, he’d survive. It’d taken a whole three shots of vodka for him to gather up any courage and blow Cristiano off that night, but in a way he was glad he did it. He didn’t need STD’s or daggers of nothing.

~

Iker thought too much, Cristiano concluded. He observed and concluded and interfered too much. But that was his way and (sometimes) Cristiano accepted it.

Except this time.

“Do something about this.”

“About what?”

“All of this.” Iker waved his hands around. “Get your shit together and apologize to him.”

Cris furrowed his eyebrows. “Who?”

Iker glared, “Just do it.”

~

After five weeks, James thought the knocking was going to be over forever. He stayed up sometimes and waited for a noise even though he knew nothing was coming.

Except this time.

He thought he was going crazy at first so he didn’t go downstairs, but after the fifth time he decided this couldn’t be just imagination.

Cristiano was panting on the other side, eyes wide hair messed up. 2 AM.

“Yeah?” He didn’t want to sound rude, but what else would he say.

“I sprinted five miles.”

“Why?”

“Because I lost my car keys. Or- I don’t know where they are...”

“Are you drunk?”

Cristiano shrugged messily. “Probably.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t do this sober.”

“Do what sober? Run five miles?”

Cristiano shook his head. “Just- just- just- listen.” James scrunched his nose up. “James: I’m Cristiano Ronaldo and I’m for-”

“Women I know.”

“No, you.”

James laughed.


End file.
